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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






MISS PENELOPE’S 
ELOPEMENT 

AND OTHER STORIES 


BY 

KATE H. SAWYER 




THE 

Hbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

Condon NEW YORK Montreal 

L ’ 




THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAY. 21 1901 

Copyright entry 

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CLASS CUXXc. N». 

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COPY S. 


Copyright, 1901, 
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CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

Miss Penelope’s Elopement 7 

Uncle Jeff’s House 26 

Deputy Sheriff 36 

Bob’s Trip Abroad 55 

The Embodiment of a Thought 63 

Mrs. Brown 76 

Miss Scruggs 84 

Aunt Sallie’s Psychology 93 




MISS PENELOPE’S ELOPEMENT 

AND OTHER STORIES 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

It created a great sensation in the village, 
for it was reported that she was a woman of 
means, and it was positively known that she 
had red hair and also a mole on the side of her 
nose; but nevertheless it really happened, and 
this is how it occurred. 

The morning after her arrival at Hope Villa, 
Miss Penelope looked about her room for the 
bell, but she did not see it (nor could anyone 
else), so she thrust her feet into her slippers 
with rising wrath. “Serves me right/’ she 
muttered, “for coming to a quiet private fam- 
ily.” Then she opened a space an inch wide in 
her doorway and, not seeing anybody, flung 
7 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

it wider still, deposited her pitcher on the hall 
floor with a decided bang and went back to 
bed to await developments. 

After a few minutes a very vicious little bell 
downstairs rang vigorously. The rising bell 
of Hope Villa was evidently accustomed to op- 
position and rebellion from the boarders, and 
insisted upon being heard. Finally the pitcher 
at the door moved. Miss Penelope called out 
“Come in,” in a very commanding tone, but 
nothing entered. Then she bestirred herself 
to give chase to the retreating maid and beg 
for hot water; but upon opening the door she 
saw nothing except the pitcher, now filled. 

“This is really very promising,” she thought. 
“I want hot water and if this roof has to come 
down, I’ll get some.” 

Whereupon she glanced around for a weapon 
of war and decided upon an umbrella, with 
which she pounded on the floor loudly. This 
unusual noise brought a prompt response. 
“Please, ma’am,” said a very meek little voice, 
in reply to her request, “there’s been right 
8 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


smart calls for hot water, and I’m afraid I can’t 
bring you much.” 

The old lady looked down upon a little, 
freckled face, a mop of sunny curls and a pair 
of eyes with a hunted look in their brown 
depths. 

“Are you one of Mr. Hope’s boys?” she 
asked. 

“Nome, I’m just Jim,” and with a. couple of 
bounds he disappeared down the stairs, return- 
ing in two minutes with a pint of hot water, 
which he offered apologetically. 

She was detained that morning a little lon- 
ger than usual, owing to the dismemberment of 
two overgrown hairpins on each side of her 
brow, from a few scant red and gray hairs, so 
she missed the diversion of family prayers, but 
she reached the dining-room in time to hear 
grace and was given a seat by Mrs. Hope, and 
flanked on the other side by a row of growing 
Hopes, who were well-trained children, 
never asking for anything twice. Their good 
manners, however, had no visible effect upon 
9 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

the hardened boarders, who made onslaughts 
on the passing provisions whenever an oppor- 
tunity offered. 

After a few minutes Jim came in with a plate 
of cakes, his small figure enveloped in a but- 
ler’s apron which came down to his ten-year- 
old heels. He waited with great gravity, in 
spite of a good many giggles coming from the 
children and a multiplicity of directions from 
the older members of the family. The cook 
also gave him orders which were distinctly au- 
dible through the half-open door. 

“Go ’long, Jim! Don’t you spill dat gravy. 
Run ’long, chile. Dem town folks eat faster’n 
I kin cook.” 

Agatha, the eldest daughter of the house 
and by common consent the general manager, 
would in crowded moments, get up from her 
seat at table to assist, taking the helm always 
at dinner; but at breakfast Jim waited very 
well without her. 

“I’m afraid, Miss Ware, you will find it 
very lonely in our little town,” Mrs. Hope re- 

iO 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


marked to her new guest. “We have never 
been in touch with our neighbors. These Vir- 
ginia provincials are very thriftless and unin- 
teresting, and but for the climate, which agrees 
with me, we would have returned to Maine 
long ago. It is a great cross to my daughters 
to be so far from Boston/’ she added, with a 
society sigh. 

The daughters, remembering the one occa- 
sion when they had passed through that city 
on their way to this mountain fastness from 
their fifty acres of stony soil, sighed also with 
regret, and one of the boarders took this op- 
portunity of making a dash at the butter-plate, 
which Jim had left in an unfortified position 
on the table. Agatha’s sweeping eye warned 
him of his carelessness, and he immediately 
moved it back to the sideboard. 

When the meal was over Miss Penelope took 
her embroidery to the hall and seated herself 
between the open doors to enjoy the breeze. 
She was soon disturbed by Jim, who, divested 
now of his apron and shoes, appeared with a 
U 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

large pail of something greasy and a floor 
cloth. 

“Please, ma’am,” he said, “would you mind 
setting on the porch while I wipe up the hall ? 
I’ll move your chair out there.” 

“Certainly, my boy, certainly,” the old lady 
answered, bustling up and arranging herself 
near the seat of operation. 

He oiled and rubbed and rubbed and oiled, 
until Agatha came and pronounced it properly 
done, except for a certain doubtful corner be- 
hind the stairway which must be attended to. 

“Make haste, Jim,” she said, “and as soon 
as you finish washing off the back porch, go 
after your vegetables, before it gets too warm.” 

Quite by accident, half an hour later, Miss 
Penelope stood looking over the garden fence 
at the little figure, which was almost hidden by 
a large basket and a tattered straw hat ; going 
in and out of the corn rows, stooping over the 
tomato vines, hunting for cucumbers under the 
fresh green leaves, snapping off the summer 
squash with a case-knife and afterward dig- 
12 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

ging out the new potatoes and shaking the 
earth from them. 

“My goodness/’ she muttered, “what will 
they give him to do next? What a beautiful 
garden you have, Miss Hope,” she went on in 
an altered tone to Agatha, who suddenly 
emerged from the shrubbery, which had made 
a convenient watch-tower to overlook the veg- 
etable gatherer; “it must take a great deal of 
work to keep it so thoroughly weeded.” 

“Yes, it does,” replied the girl. “Father 
works it himself, getting up every morning at 
five. He has nobody to help him except Jim, 
who is too small to really be of service.” 

“Humph!” was the polite response. “He 
seems to do a good deal for such a little fellow. 
I should think you’d be afraid he would stop 
growing.” Agatha opened her gray eyes very 
widely and stared at the new boarder with sur- 
prise. Then she tripped lightly down the path, 
and helping Jim with the basket, they disap- 
peared in the kitchen. 

Miss Penelope sat down on the garden bench 

13 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


with a spirit of war in her attitude and fanned 
herself with her embroidery hoop. 

“Why can’t that poor little chap play with 
the other children?” she thought, glancing 
toward the little Hopes, who were rolling 
over in the grass with the puppies and scream- 
ing with pretended fright at their baby bites 
and yaps. “He must be a poor relation,” she 
decided. 

Just then the object of her interest came out 
of the kitchen with a large tin pan of apples 
and, seating himself cross-legged under a tree, 
began to pare them. His eyes wandered over 
to the children occasionally and, becoming in- 
terested in their movements, his knife went 
very slowly around the apples. Finally it 
seemed to stick hopelessly in one, and in an- 
other moment Jim had dropped it and was in 
the midst of the children, who greeted him 
with shouts of delight. 

The big, red rooster came from under the 
rosebush and, observing the pan, clucked to 
the hens and they held a reception in it. 

H 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


“Shco! shoo!” screamed Agatha from the 
doorway. “Here, Jim, where are you? Upon 
my soul, you are a torment. Come here this 
minute and get some more apples to peel. You 
needn't walk so slow. You’ll catch it, anyhow. 
Take that — and that,” planting two smart 
^iaps on the sunburnt cheeks. 

Here the mt-eriering boarder came forward, 
gasping: “Don’t — please, don’t; J can’t stand 
it. He is such a little fellow ; you ought not to 
expect too much of him.” Agatha was more 
than surprised, but she held her ground. 

“Really, Miss Ware,” she replied, “you do 
not understand the case at all and may there- 
fore be pardoned for your interference.” Then 
she turned to the culprit. “Go to work, Jim, 
and remember that it is quite impossible for 
you to pay for your living with the little work 
you do, and the least you can do is to be grate- 
ful and not spend your time in play.” 

Jim wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, 
took up his pan and went to the orchard, but 
not without throwing a glance of gratitude 
\5 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


toward his defender, who immediately retired 
to her room and had recourse to her lavender 
salts, while she pondered over certain matters 
with sundry sniffs. During the rest of the day 
she spent her time in trying to arrange an in- 
terview with Jim, but he was engaged; and 
though she followed him to the wood-pile while 
he picked up enough chips to last through Sun- 
day, the opportunity was not ripe, for Mrs. 
Hope was on the back porch knitting. She 
could only keep her eye on him while he caught 
the chickens, for his little brown legs were too 
fleet for her to follow, and at last, when the 
most rebellious pullet was drawn triumphantly 
from the depths of the box-bush, the work of 
killing and picking had to take place behind 
the woodshed; and Miss Penelope’s feelings 
were too tender to witness this operation, so 
she decided to wait until the next day. 

Sunday morning it was raining a little, but 
that did not interfere with going to church, 
for, by cutting across lots and going through 
the pasture, the distance was short and the 
\6 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

boarders were bored. Church in the country 
is an interesting place — the first time — and 
the old lady took a prominent seat near the 
“mourners’ bench.” Jim sat in front of her, 
by Mrs. Hope and the children, while Mr. 
Hope occupied a position on the opposite side 
of the church, on one of the benches reserved 
for men only, where a plug of tobacco could 
be indulged in without restraint. 

After a long sermon on card-playing and 
dancing, the preacher settled his blue necktie, 
took a drink of water and asked Brother Hope 
to lead in prayer, a request which was fol- 
lowed by some loud and rambling instructions 
to the Lord by the brother, who wound up by 
asking that the hard hearts of the congrega- 
tion might be turned in the direction of mis- 
sions and made to contribute accordingly. 
The collection was then taken up by one of the 
younger brothers of the parish, who wore mud- 
dy top boots, with a riding switch sticking co- 
quettishly out of one. 

By craning her neck a little Miss Penelope 

M 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


could see that Jim held up a quarter and looked 
at it wistfully as the hat approached, but after 
a glance from Mrs. Hope dropped it in. 

The maiden lady squirmed with curiosity. 
What on earth could this mean? The mys- 
tery was solved a little later, however, when 
they started home, for she heard Agatha say : 

“Jim, did you put your money in?” 

“Yes’m,” was the reply. 

“That’s a good boy. You know you have 
everything you need and it is right to want the 
poor heathen taught the Gospel.” 

“Yes’m.” 

“And the Sallie Hope Mission is to my mind 
the most interesting and deserving one that we 
can help.” 

“Yes’m.” 

“Have you any more money that the board- 
ers have given you ?” 

No answer. 

“Have you any more money, I asked you, 
Jim?” 

“Nome,” very slowly. 

J8 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

“I believe you have and I hope it will be no 
pleasure to you if you are keeping it from the 
Mission.” 

Here Miss Penelope came too near, and the 
conversation was not resumed until they 
reached the house, when Agatha said 

“You can have this afternoon to yourself, 
Jim, after you have washed the dishes, but you 
must not play ball, like you did last Sunday, for 
mother was terribly hurt to think of any mem- 
ber of her family doing such a thing, and in 
the front yard, too.” 

“What is the Sallie Hope Mission?” inquired 
one of the boarders at the dinner-table, one 
who doubtless felt keenly the loss of his con- 
tribution. 

“That is a little mission in Mexico,” an- 
swered Mrs. Hope, “established and supported 
by this parish. At present our daughter has 
charge of it. In fact, we may say she founded 
it, for she has been teaching there ever since it 
was started.” 

“Humph !” grunted Miss Penelope. 

\9 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


After the dish washing Jim wandered about 
the yard in his Sunday clothes, feeling very 
uncomfortable and warm, and not knowing 
what to do with himself. The children were 
sitting on the front porch, staring at their sis- 
ters’ visitors. There was nobody to play with, 
and even the roosters, from some perversity, 
would not fight. He was tired whittling sticks 
with his broken-bladed knife, and at intervals 
he would take a rubber ball out of his most im- 
portant pocket and then hastily put it back 
upon a sound of approaching footsteps. 

Presently Miss Penelope came to the water 
bucket on the back porch and unhung the 
gourd. 

“Let me get you some fresh water, ma’am,” 
he called, bounding up the steps and to the 
well. 

“Thank you, my boy,” she answered, look- 
ing with admiration upon his straight little fig- 
ure and his shining ringlets, almost baby ring- 
lets they were, clinging to his forehead. “I 


20 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

should think you would be glad to rest to-day ; 
you have so much to do during the week.” 

“Yes’m,” with an uneasy look around him, 
then, in a whisper : “Say, I like you. I think 
you’re the prettiest boarder we’ve got. I told 
John Hope that, and he laughed and I knocked 
him down.” 

“That was gallant, I’m sure, Jim, but I’m 
afraid to be my champion for beauty would 
mean a great many fights for you. I want to 
say something to you, my boy, but I do not 
wish anyone to hear me. Where can we go ?” 

A look of awe came over his face. Could it 
be possible for her to find his mother? “Less 
go to the stable,” he answered promptly. 
“There ain’t nothing there but the new kit- 
tens. Horses are in the pasture.” 

So to the stable they went, and peeped in 
the loft to get a glimpse of the kittens. “Why 
who sleeps here?” she asked, her eye falling 
upon a pallet in one corner, covered with ar 
patchwork quilt. 

“Me,” was the response. “And I’m glad they 

2 \ 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


let me sleep out here in the summer, ’cause if I 
ever get another chance to run away, this is a 
good place to run from.” 

“Did you ever run away?” 

“Yes’m, I run wunst, but I told a boy next 
door about it, and he told Mr. Hope, and just 
as I got to the depot and was going to buy me 
a ticket Mr. Hope he come up behind me and 
said, ‘Jim, it’s time to be home getting up the 
cows.’ And then he whipped me and took my 
boarders’ money and put it in the Mission, so 
I ain’t had another chance since.” 

“How much money did you have?” 

“I had a whole dollar and a half.” 

“Where were you going to run to ?” 

“I dunnome, but I was going somewhere on 
the train ’way from here, for I reckon if I got 
a start I might find my mother and she would 
take back the binding.” 

“What binding? I do not understand what 
you mean.” 

“Why, you see she bound me over to Mr. 
Hope, ’cause she said she didn’t have no father 

22 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

for me, and the man that lived at our house he 
had some boys already, so she had to give me 
away ; but I think if I could find her and tell her 
how I want to go away, she might unbind 
me.” 

“Did you love your mother?” 

“Yes’m, right smartly.” 

“Do you want to live with her again?/* 

“Nome.” 

“Why?” 

“ ’Cause I used to have to hide when she 
come home from the cross-roads store. She 
and Unc Tom (that was the man that lived at 
our house) used to come home drunk and lick 
all of us.” 

Then something strange happened to Jim, 
something which had never occurred before 
in all his ten years’ experience. The boarder 
threw her arms around his neck, and kissed 
his round, freckled cheek. She whispered 
something in his ear, too, which made him 
jump up and kick his feet together like the 
crack of a whip, and presently he flew off with 
23 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


a whoop of joy to call the cows home for 
milking. 

The mountain air seemed to agree much bet- 
ter with Miss Penelope after this. She walked 
to the post office twice a day, being exceedingly 
impatient for her mail, and finally, upon re- 
ceipt of a formidable-looking envelope, bearing 
a lawyer’s name, she decided that a matter of 
business would take her to the station that af- 
ternoon and asked that Jim might drive her. 

When the sun went down Agatha grew un- 
easy, for they had not returned, and Dot and 
Spot were lowing for him down in the dewy 
paddock. 

The buggy came back, but its only occupant 
was a little colored boy, who bore a note for 
Mr. Hope, which read: 

“Mr. Hope. 

“Dear Sir : Kindly send my trunks to 
1417 Blank Street, Boston. I have brought 
Jim with me, to see that he is properly cared 
for. If you want to look him up, I will meet 

24 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


you half way at any time, and with a man from 
Maine who wishes to settle a little matter with 
you concerning a forged check. 

“Truly yours, Penelope Ware.” 


25 


Uncle Jett’s House 


I went down to Uncle Jeff’s door one bright 
Sunday morning in October to see if he would 
drive us to church. The old man, with his 
usual hospitality, insisted upon my coming in. 

“Dinah, git up out dat char an’ let de baby 
hab it,” with which command to his better and 
larger half, whose exceeding corpulence ren- 
dered her movements somewhat slow, he laid 
his corncob pipe upon the top of the churn and 
began to stir the smoldering logs in the fire- 
place. 

“Set down, honey, I got suppin’ to say ter 
yer. Cose I’ll dribe yall ter chutch, but I 
ain’t studyin’ ’bout meetin’ now. I’m thinkin’ 
’bout suppin’ else ’sides Sunday close an’ 
preachers. Ole age is a-creepin’ on, an’ me 
widout no home o’ my own. I wants a tater- 
patch, honey, an’ a house whar b’longs to me, 


Uncle Jeff’s House 


whar me an’ Dinah kin stay all de time wid- 
out none o’ dis quoilin’ wid Ole Marse. Why, 
dat man gits wuss ebery day! He ’lows I 
oughtn’t ter go to town cote days, an’ when I 
gits pestered wid de misery in my back, he say, 
‘Jefferson, yer ain’t wuth yer salt.’ ” 

Here the old man drew himself up and so 
perfectly imitated Uncle’s fierce manner that I 
could not help smiling, though this matter of 
a permanent home for the faithful couple had 
been a thorn in my flesh for a long time. Un- 
cle was more than willing to give him a few 
acres of land, but money to build the house was 
harder to procure, and we had hoped and 
planned to no purpose. 

The lodge which had been assigned them 
was quite comfortable, but in no way suited to 
their taste, being just in front of our dwelling, 
on the edge of the lawn, and had been used by 
the gate-opener ; but the gate having long since 
crumbled into forgetfulness, there was no need 
for any opening besides the gap which yawned 
between the stone posts irregularly piled and 
27 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

covered with gray lichen, like the sentinel oaks 
which stood around them. 

“I cyant hab no gyardin heah,” he resumed 
discontentedly. “Yall so patentious like, yer 
say my gyardin would look bad in front de 
house, an’, ’sides dat, I’se ole now an’ don’ 
wanter wuk no mo’, an’ Ole Marse oughter 
git me a house.” 

“We know that, Uncle Jeff, and if we had 
our way you would have had your house long 
ago.” It was Nell who spoke, entering the 
door, her bright young face filled with sym- 
pathy. “You see,” she continued, “Uncle is 
old, too, and he cannot manage like he used to. 
He hasn’t any money just now, but perhaps 
things will be brighter after a little while.” 

He shook his head, a perfectly gray head, 
ornamented by a white wool nightcap worn in 
all seasons and upon all except very formal oc- 
casions, to keep the wind out of his ears. 

“I done waited an’ waited, baby, an’ it ’pears 
like it don’t come. Who dat po’ scout heah 
yestiddy, Miss Nellie? I don’ want yer to be 
28 


Uncle Jeff’s House 


marryin’ no po’ white trash like dat. I wur 
a gret mine to tel him to g’long back to whar 
he come from, when I see him steppin’ up de 
path a-swingin’ dat little switch he call a cane 
whar ain’t big enough to kill a tadpole wid, but 
I seed you a-lookin’ out de winder, a-watchin’ 
fur him, all frizzled up an’ all smilin’, an’ I 
was fred to dribe him back.” 

“You had better wait until he asks for me 
before you raise any objections,” she answered, 
flushing to the roots of her golden hair. “He 
is really a very nice man, Uncle Jeff, when you 
know him.” 

“Well, honey, I won’t say nothin’ if he kin 
suppote you good, but I don’t want my Ole 
Mistiss whar is deceasted to look down from 
hebben an’ see her pretty chillun a-matin’ wid 
no draggled sparrows. Yall oughter marry 
condescendin’, penevolent, circumscribed young 
gentmen.” 

He meant circumspect, but was quite as well 
pleased with the length of the words he had 
chosen, and we left him diving into his chest to 

29 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


resurrect some of his Sunday clothes, a sort of 
fungus collection of forty years’ growth, for 
he had never been known either to wear out or 
give away any of these remarkable garments. 
That day his costume consisted of a pair of 
large checked blue and white cotton trousers, a 
spike-tailed broadcloth coat and a silk hat so 
tall that it threatened to raise the roof from our 
broken-down carriage. 

After that day we renewed our efforts for his 
house, but Nell’s drawings would not sell, and 
my plain sewing brought but a small revenue, 
so when December came we felt as far from 
our object as ever. He had given a reluctant 
consent to her engagement after a painful in- 
terview with Will, which I had felt constrained 
to hear, so I walked on the other side of the 
hedge. 

He addressed the culprit with great gravity : 

“Young man, my little mistiss say she 
gwine ter marry you, an’ I wanter know sup- 
pin’ ’bout yer ’fo’ I lets yer hab my chile. Ever 
since I been free I been stayin’ heah takin’ keer 
30 


Uncle Jeff’s House 


o’ dese babies. Dee is had de bes’ of eberyting 
in der lives, but we ain’t got much now, ’cause 
de whole Yankee army walk through dis yard 
an’ ebery man ub ’em done tuk suppin’ ’way wid 
him. Whar is yer plantation ?” 

“I have none, Uncle Jeff; I live in town,” 
was the meek response. 

“Ain’t you got any niggers? Whar is yer 
niggers, suh?” 

Again a negative reply. 

“Name o’ Gawd, man, what is yer got?” 

Things were becoming so serious that I left, 
but as Uncle Jeff went to the cross-roads store 
that evening and was too sick to work for sev- 
eral days after, and as Will seemed to grow in 
his favor very suddenly, we strongly suspected 
that bribery and corruption took place on the 
other side of the hedge. 

Christmas Eve, after all the preparations for 
the next day had been made, I sat upstairs by 
my fire alone while Nell was saying good night 
below to her lover, and I seemed to see in the 
dying embers all the gray, lonely years which 
3J 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


stretched before me. The wind was howling, 
sighing, rocking the great oaks and swishing 
their brittle branches against the roof. A cold 
sleet w r as falling upon the half-frozen ground 
and driving in sheets upon the shaking win- 
dows. I arose and fastened my scissors be- 
tween the sashes, hoping to steady them and 
stop their perpetual ague. 

Presently Nell came in, her face radiant, and 
holding in her hand a small roll of paper. 
“Look !” she cried, “the specifications of Uncle 
Jeff’s house. It is Will’s Christmas gift.” 

She cried for very joy, and wanted to go 
immediately to the old man, but it was too 
late at night, so we went to sleep to dream of 
his delight next day. 

It must have been a couple of hours later 
when all of us were aroused by a knock at the 
back door, and as soon as Uncle opened it we 
heard little Joe’s voice. “Please, suh, Aun‘ 
Dinah say please some yall come down dar. 
Unc’ Jeff, he got a mighty bad turn.” 

I threw on my things and telling Nell not to 

32 


Uncle Jeff’s House 


follow unless I put a light in the lodge window, 
went downstairs. Uncle found a flask of 
brandy, murmured something about my taking 
cold and went back to bed. We were accus- 
tomed to these spells and felt no great uneasi- 
ness, for the old man generally recovered in a 
few days after one of his attacks. 

“How is he, Joe?” I asked, floundering 
through the half-frozen puddles. “Is he suf- 
fering very much ?” 

“He sutney is bad off,” the child answered, 
in a scared voice. “Aun’ Dinah say he mus' 
be conjured, ’cause he lavin’ dar wid he eyes 
rolled up same ez if he wuz daid.” 

It took but a few moments to reach the lodge, 
and before entering I could hear the groans 
and lamentations from the women who had 
come in to help, but from Dinah’s lips no sound 
escaped. She sat by the bed as still as the form 
she so intently watched, her eyes straining 
with anxiety to discover some sign of encour- 
agement from the impassive features. 

We forced a few drops of brandy between 

33 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


his lips, but he did not swallow it ; then I took 
the candle which was nearly burned to the 
socket and placed it flickering in the window. 
The doctor had been sent for, but it seemed 
he would never come; the moments dragged 
like hours, while we resorted to everything we 
could think of to restore consciousness, but 
without success. The women had ceased to la- 
ment and obeyed my directions with awe- 
stricken faces. Little Joe sat upon an upturned 
box in the chimney corner and cried softly. 

At last there was a faint stir in the bed, and 
the sufferer opened his eyes slowly, eyes whose 
heavy lids seemed weighted with the toil of 
seventy years. 

“Dat you, Dinah?” he asked, and his voice 
was far away. 

An eager “Yes, honey,” followed by a heart- 
breaking groan, was the response. 

“How come de candle mek sech a light, 
Dinah? It’s mighty bright.” 

“Oh, ’tis de light o’ Gawd whar he sees,” 


34 


Uncle Jeff’s House 


she sobbed, burying her face in her hands and 
rocking back and forth. 

Just then I looked up and saw Nell standing 
in the doorway too frightened, too distressed 
to speak. She tiptoed softly to the bedside, 
but after looking down into the filmy eyes, she 
called loudly to him, taking the poor, hard- 
worked hand in her own : 

“Uncle Jeff, your house is going to be built 
next week. You must wake and listen. It is 
all yours. Can you hear me ? Ah, God !” 

It was too late. He had gone home, and to 
a house not made with hands. 


35 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


Deputy Sheriff 

Three o’clock on a chilly day late in Octo- 
ber, when the sun exerted itself only to be 
warm in spots, and the cool air strove with its 
rays to gain the mastery. Through the masses 
of red and gold foliage glimpses of naked corn- 
stalks appeared on desolate hillsides, in ragged 
splotches on each side of the red clay road. 
The dejected rail fences, partially supported by 
clinging grape vines, disjointedly marked the 
highway, forsaken save for a solitary horse- 
man riding slowly on, whistling with a little 
defiance and a touch of sadness “The Bonnie 
Blue Flag.” 

His great, square shoulders, covered with a 
coat long since devoid of color, seemed the only 
prominence in the landscape except the sharp 

36 


Deputy Sheriff 


outline of the haunches belonging to the gaunt 
white horse he rode. 

From time to time he stooped and looked 
down into the muddy tracks for some clue to his 
pathway, and finally, following with his eye a 
certain footprint, broad, bare, flat, with the in- 
dentation of an African instep, plainly marked, 
he kept it in sight, turning to one side of the 
road and then halting by a barrier of fencing a 
trifle higher than the rest and connected by a 
motley set of draw-bars, which belonged to 
trees entirely at variance with each other’s 
families. 

Here he paused, pushed back his slouch hat 
and glanced through the skirt of forest oaks 
toward a clearing beyond, where there stood an 
old frame house, dilapidated, time-worn and 
guiltless from its birth of ever having owned 
a porch, a blind, or a drop of paint. 

Perceiving a group of people moving about 
the yard, he called out, “Hello !” at the top of 
his healthy lungs, this mode of address being 
customary in the neighborhood when one called 
37 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

on business. A man’s voice invited him in. 
He slung himself from the saddle and, slip- 
ping the rein over the pommel, pulled down the 
bars half way and stepped over, leaving his 
horse to follow. 

Between man and beast there seemed a 
marked affinity; both young but gaunt, strong 
yet unfinished. In the straight-limbed youth of 
twenty-one not filled out to his exceeding 
height, his stern features, deep-set eyes and un- 
couth appearance, there was something not un- 
like the raw-boned, Roman-nosed, kind-eyed 
horse which followed him leisurely up the path, 
pausing to nibble at a tempting bit of green, 
then rubbing his tinged lips against his mas- 
ter’s coat. 

It would have been an interesting spectacle 
to one unaccustomed to war times and straits, 
this group of queer figures gathered under a 
large pear tree in front of the dwelling, for 
there was something Bohemian in the picture 
of a large fire at a little distance from the tree, 
over whose red coals was suspended a huge 
38 


Deputy Sheriff 

iron pot filled with some stewing, frothy sub- 
stance. 

A girl of about thirteen, with sober gray 
eyes, and wearing a calico sunbonnet pushed 
back from her face, and a bright scarlet cape, 
pinked at the edges, stood by this kettle, and, 
with a long switch, fished leisurely and with a 
serious air in the boiling compound. 

A man stood by her in a checked homespun 
shirt and a pair of trousers patched to defy 
recognition of any known material. Home- 
made shoes of the roughest leather completed 
his attire, yet there was something in his clear- 
ly cut features and in his manner that bore a 
decided resemblance to a gentleman, and when 
he spoke there was no doubt left in the listen- 
er’s mind. 

He had just emptied a basket of pears in a 
heap not far off, and they were being picked 
over by half a dozen little negroes in various 
stages of semi-attire. 

After pausing to stir the contents of the caul- 
dron with a long wooden paddle, he came for- 

39 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

ward and greeted courteously the stranger, who 
approached in a business-like manner and with- 
out embarrassment. 

“I am riding as deputy sheriff,” said the 
gaunt youth, “and I came by to see if you know 
anything about a darkey named Tom, who used 
to belong here.” 

“No, I do not,” replied his host; “but per- 
haps some of the men may be able to give you 
some information. Jeff!” he called, to an old 
man splitting a log at the woodpile, “have 
you seen anything of Tom to-day?” 

The old man put down his axe and came for- 
ward, wiping the moisture from his wrinkled 
face on his ragged sleeve. 

“Naw, sah, Mars’ John, I ain’t seen dat nig- 
ger, an’ I don’ want see no sech runaway nig- 
gers as dat. He wuz de only one, suh,” turn- 
ing to the sheriff, “dat wuz mean ’nough to 
leave po’ mist’ess an’ de chilluns up heah in dis 
wilderness to be et up by de Yankees. He 
wanted to go off wid ’em, an’ mist’ess she 
pack he knapsack, an’ she say, 'You go ’long 
40 


Deputy Sheriff 


with ’em, Tom, ’cas’ you goin’ to be free any- 
how. Gen’l Lee, he can’t hole out. An’ den, 
arter dat, suh, he tole de enemy whar we is hid, 
an’ de whole Yankee army done come by heah 
an’ tuk eberything we had. Naw, suh, Tom 
better not come on dis place, ’cas’ he’ll get kilt 
sho if he do.” 

The young deputy eyed the old man kindly 
and listened rather indifferently to this story. 
It was only one of many, and here were the 
people well and evidently not starving. 

“What do you want with the boy?” asked 
the homespun aristocrat. 

“He set fire to a barn last night at Mace- 
donia cross-roads, was caught in the very act, 
but got away and ” 

Here the sheriff paused, having become em- 
barrassed by the frightened eyes and white face 
of the little girl, who had just fished up a pear 
triumphantly on her switch after much patient 
angling ; but in her anxiety when he spoke had 
let it fall back in the boiling syrup, and was 
staring at him with great, troubled eyes. 

4 i 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

She left her occupation and, coming straight 
to him, laid her little, trembling hand upon his 
arm. 

“How do you know that the man who said 
he saw him told the truth?” she asked, with 
the air of a judge. “What will you do with 
him if you catch him?” 

What a white, sad face it was for a child; 
what great, beseeching eyes and what a sensi- 
tive baby mouth, yet withal something so wom- 
anly about this mite in the red cloak. The 
sheriff looked down into her face with a be- 
nign and wondering air, as if she were the 
dainty evidence of an unseen and longed-for 
world. 

“There seems little doubt about his having 
burnt it/ he said, very gently, “but I would not 
hurt him, you know. He would be taken to 
jail to await his trial.” 

“I hope you will never catch him,” she said 
vehemently; and, with the satisfaction of hav- 
ing resisted the laws of her country to her ut- 
most, she returned to her task of watching the 

42 


Deputy Sheriff 


preserves, for such they were called, being 
button-pears cooking in cane juice. 

She successfully pulled out on the end of her 
switch a few of them, by this time well cooked, 
and placing them on a cracked earthenware 
saucer, offered them to the officer of the law, 
with the gracious air of one accustomed to dis- 
pensing hospitalities of a more refined sort. He 
accepted them with thanks and, leaning against 
the tree, ate them, and after wiping his fingers 
on a very ragged but clean handkerchief, set 
the saucer on a stump and whistled to his horse, 
which was grazing a few yards off. 

“If you are in this neighborhood again, 
come and see us,” said his unstylish host. “We 
are refugees and know none of our neighbors. 
My sister’s husband is in Richmond at his busi- 
ness, hoping to get them back as soon as pos- 
sible, and in the meantime I am here protect- 
ing them.” 

The sheriff thanked him and was about to 
mount his lean steed when the child again left 
the kettle and came to him. 

43 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

“If you catch Tom, you must be sure not to 
hurt him. Promise me that,” she added, in a 
peremptory tone, with the air of one in the 
habit of being obeyed, the air which the eldest 
of a large family always carries to the grave. 

He smiled. “I promise, and I always keep 
my word,” he said. 

He touched lightly with his large hand the 
flannel cape which fluttered in the wind against 
his arm, and, vaulting in the saddle, lifted his 
old slouch hat and was off in a canter until he 
reached the draw-bars. 

Now there is nothing in country life more 
exasperating than draw-bars, nor is there any 
other obstacle which can bring a more sudden 
halt to thought and a break into a day-dream. 

The man, thinking of the barn-burner be- 
fore taking down and putting back the bars, 
which he did conscientiously, each one in its 
niche, found himself afterward dwelling upon 
the people he had met. 

“There is something about town people 
which makes me feel at a disadvantage,” he 
44 


Deputy Sheriff 


said to himself. “I don’t know just what it is, 
but I think I'll go to town and stay long enough 
to find out. There is no use trying to live in 
the country without teams and money. I’ll 
take my next tobacco crop down to Richmond 
and look about for something.” 

Having settled this subject satisfactorily to 
himself, he struck his spur lightly against his 
sympathetic companion’s side and they can- 
tered down the red road to look for Tom, whom 
they never found. 

After horse and rider had disappeared Janet 
was immediately surrounded by the anxious 
horde of small negroes, who had been re- 
strained from demonstration by the presence of 
a stranger, and now pressed forward to beg 
their share of preserves. 

“Is dey done good yet?” 

“Lemme taste?” 

“Gord, ain’t dat nice !” 

“Juno, you got more’n I is.” 

“Gimme ’nuther, Miss Janet, please, marm,” 
and similar requests. After satisfying her fol- 
45 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

lowers, she directed her thoughts to other and 
more weighty matters. 

“Uncle John,” she asked, “are sheriffs gen- 
tlemen ?” 

Her uncle looked at her for a moment and 
then replied, “Sometimes, my dear ; but why do 
you ask?” 

“Because if he is a gentleman he will keep his 
word.” 

* ***** * 

“But, Janet, why should you shut yourself 
up like a nun when every other girl of your age 
is having a glorious time? What if you do 
have to mind a pack of children all day? You 
can put them to bed in the evening and go to a 
party. It has been so long since you have been 
wearing mourning, you have fallen into these 
isolated habits, like an old woman. You are 
nearly nineteen years old, and it is high time 
you were in society. I am going to speak to 
your father this very day about the insane way 
you are being treated.” 


46 


Deputy Sheriff 


The speaker, having expressed herself freely, 
paused to note the effect. 

“I do not think I am like other girls, Aunt 
Alice/’ her niece replied. “I fancy I would not 
care much for balls and beaux, and you know 
the responsibility of the children keeps my mind 
and hands occupied.” 

“That is all very well to talk about,” re- 
sponded the matron, loosening her bonnet 
strings and panting with righteous indignation. 
“As if I did not know you had a pack of boys 
always at your heels. If there is anything I 
hate, it is boys ! If girls like attention, let them 
accept it from men who will not take ten years 
to grow into something eligible. Now Tues- 
day evening at the Carys there will be a lot of 
nice men you ought to know.” 

“You are very kind, Aunt Alice, to take such 
an interest in my affairs ; but I really must de- 
cline being put on the market, and if that is 
your object in my going to this ball, you may 
spare yourself further trouble.” 

“Don’t be silly, Janet! You know I am 
47 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


thinking of your welfare, and you fly at me, 
and that is all the thanks I get. There is one 
thing you have to face, child, and that is your 
father’s marriage. He has already waited 
longer than I expected, and when the other 
wife comes you will not want to give up your 
place as general manager. You will sigh for 
a home of your own.” 

“And do you think I am base enough to be 
married for a home ?” 

“No, no, child, I don’t think anything about 
it,” was the inconsistent reply. “I just want 
you to enjoy yourself like other girls, and you 
need not be married if you object. All I want 
is for you to go to the Cary’s ball. You will 
have a glorious time. I heard Sam Fairfield 
say the other day that no woman could be beau- 
tiful without red hair.” 

“Are you sure he was not joking, Aunt 
Alice,” asked Janet, blushing to match her hair. 

“Why, no, I suppose not. We were dis- 
cussing the women at the Governor’s reception 
and expressing our opinions. You must have a 
48 


Deputy Sheriff 


white silk at once, and you can wear my pearls, 
and of course you are to go with me,” con- 
tinued the anxious chaperon, bustling to de- 
part. “I’ll go straight to your father's office 
and then come back for you, and we will go 
get the dress without any delay.” 

In giving directions to the leading modiste, 
Janet felt her importance increasing, and on 
the looked-for evening, when she was driven 
off in state to the brilliantly lighted rooms, she 
was sure nobody else could be so happy. The 
odor of the flowers, the swaying rhythm of in- 
toxicating music, the beautiful faces, the voices 
of friends, all combined to make her forget that 
she had ever been other than now, a debu- 
tante, a belle, whose card was full, whose ad- 
mirers surrounded her between the dances. 

She was so much sought for that her aunt 
had to wait very patiently, and with a queer lit- 
tle smile at the corners of her mouth, before 
she could bring another friend to introduce 
him. This charge was a stalwart, grave-look- 


49 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

in g man with deep-set eyes and a heavy, dark 
mustache. 

“The most superb figure I ever saw,” mur- 
mured Miss Wriggles to her small, lean part- 
ner. 

“Ya-as,” drawled the dainty youth; “I never 
saw a fellow improve so wonderfully as he has 
done. When he first came here from the coun- 
try, some awful place nobody ever heard of, 
with people in it nobody ever knew, why, he 
was dreadful, you know, but as soon as he spec- 
ulated and began to make money, he grew to 
be very handsome, haw-haw!” with which 
withering wit Mr. Cruikshanks retired in 
favor of someone else. 

Meanwhile Janet was trying to make room 
for Mr. Fairfield beside her. 

“I have had the honor of meeting you be- 
fore, Miss Morgan,” he said, looking into her 
eyes with ill-concealed admiration. 

Janet hesitated a moment and then replied, 
frankly : “No, Mr. Fairfield, you have made a 
mistake. I have never met you before.” 

50 


Deputy Sheriff 


There was a tinge of regret in her voice, for 
after all, this great, honest-eyed man, with his 
rich voice, had asked to meet her as some other 
woman. 

“No,” he answered, lowering his tone a lit- 
tle, seeing the diminutive Cruikshanks strain- 
ing his ears to catch the drift of the conversa- 
tion ; “I met you at your home in Mecklenberg 
county, when you were a little girl in a red 
cloak and a sunbonnet making preserves under 
a pear tree and I was deputy sheriff.” 

Janet scanned his face with the innocent gaze 
of childish curiosity and astonishment. 

“Oh, yes, I remember you now, only ” 

She hesitated. 

“Only it is my feathers,” he supplemented. 
“You see my memory is better than yours, and 
I remember you perfectly, even though you 
wore that bonnet which hid your hair. I will 
confess, however, that I have been watching 
you grow for five years, ever since you re- 
turned from that place.” 

“How queer to watch me grow,” she 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


laughed. “Have I seemed to get on very 
rapidly? Now, I’ll make a confession, too, 
for I have always felt guilty about that deputy 
sheriff, although I would do the same again. 
Do you know while you were standing under 
that tree, talking to Uncle John, that Tom was 
down in the pines at the back of the house, and 
I knew he was there ?” 

And then she told how it had happened. The 
baby was ill during the night, and she was sent 
to Dinah’s cabin for help. As she ran hurriedly 
down the path in the moonlight she heard 
Tom’s voice from behind a tree, where he had 
been crouching. “Miss Janet,” he whispered, 
“don’t you holler. It’s me, and I is runnin’ 
’way ter keep ’em from puttin’ de law ’pon top 
me. Don’t you tell nobody you see me, ’cause 
dey kill me sho if dey cotch me. I gwine ter 
stay in de pines all day to-morrow, b’low de 
branch, and at night I kin run off befo’ de 
moon rises.” 

Janet promised silence, trembling with 
fright, and at noon the next day she took him 

52 


Deputy Sheriff 

some food, under cover of hunting for a lost 
turkey. 

“I knew you wouldn’t let yo’ po’ nigger 
starve,” he said, gratefully, devouring the corn 
pone and baked apples with which she had piled 
the plate for the turkeys, and then she had gone 
back to the house, a very scared and miserable 
child. 

“That was an event in my childhood,” she 
added. “Tell me, was it very wrong in me to 
cheat the law and harbor criminals?” looking 
up mischievously. “Am I very wicked?” 

“No/ he answered gravely. “You are just 
as God made you — perfect.” 

The day after the most brilliant wedding of 
the season, Aunt Alice sat in a pile of news- 
papers and boxes, superintending the packing 
of cut glass and china, while Miss Wriggles 
hovered around, still in a state of romantic ex- 
citement. 

“It is the most sentimental thing I ever 
heard,” she said. “To think of Sam Fairfield 
53 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


loving Janet from afar all these years and wait- 
ing to get rich before he courted her.” 

“Yes, it is all lovely,” Aunt Alice said sweet- 
ly, and then thought : “Romance indeed ! 
What would it all have come to but for me, 
for as soon as he said he liked red hair I 
dragged her to that ball. I would like to know 
what girls would do without sensible relatives.” 


54 


Bob’s Trip Abroad 


Last night, as we sat around Bob’s fire, 
looking over some magazines, he remarked, 
casually: “That is a very good cut of the 
Crystal Palace.” 

“What do you know about it?” asked Har- 
man. 

“Didn’t you know I was over last month?” 
he replied, a look of great depression stealing 
over his face. In fact, he has not appeared like 
himself for several weeks, but we did not like 
to question him. He is secretary and stenog- 
rapher for Mr. Minor King, who rushes him 
about the country at a great rate, not giving 
him time to breathe, but we had not missed him 
for any great while recently and could hardly 
credit his statement. All of us knew his great 
longing for Europe, that he had lived in un- 
comfortable lodgings for years and denied him- 
55 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

self many things with that end in view, and 
that he was only waiting for three months' 
leave of absence from Mr. King. 

“Say, Bob, when were you over?” continued 
Harman, with a dubious smile. 

“A few weeks ago, when you thought I was 
in New York. You must know that Mr. King 
is one of those very important people who, 
having the advantage of many millions, never 
condescend to tell a fellow when he is expected 
to go with him until the last moment. He 
came into the office here one afternoon at fouf 
o’clock and told me to be ready to catch the 
Eastern train at five. I rushed home and threw 
a few things in my bag, didn’t have time to get 
my overcoat from Brown, who had borrowed it 
the day before, and was at the station in time. 
It would have meant the loss of my place had I 
made any inquiries about the journey, but, 
knowing what he had on hand, I was quite sure 
we would land in New York to see about those 
Nevada mining stocks. 

“We were there several days, with an im- 
56 


Bob’s Trip Abroad 


mense amount of work, and not one moment I 
could call my own, when, one day, while I was 
in the midst of a long cipher message, he 
remarked, casually, while he was jotting down 
some memoranda, ‘I’ve engaged a couple of 
staterooms for to-night to Liverpool. I sup- 
pose you can get ready.” 

It was hard work to hold up my lower jaw, 
but I was determined not to be outdone in in- 
difference, so I drawled out, ‘Ya-as, I guess so/ 
as if I had spent most of my life on the ocean 
wave. Then, when he went out of the office, I 
up and knocked over a chair or two, slapped the 
janitor on the back and hugged a messenger 
boy, who fled from ‘the crazy man’ as fast as 
he could. 

“Tearing down the street, I purchased a rug 
and cap and found I had just time to get to the 
wharf. Mr. King was growing impatient, but 
smoothed down when he saw me coming. 

“I had time to watch a parting between 
mother and daughter, the prettiest girl you 
ever saw, brown eyes and tall, you know, just 
57 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

my style. The father was crossing with her, 
and mamma was remaining on shore. 

“ ‘Do take good care of papa, Grace/ mamma 
was saying, and Grace linked her arm affection- 
ately in his and gave him a melting look from 
her lovely eyes that I would have died for. 
Never before had I wished to be a father. She 
threw me a sidelong glance which, I thought, 
took in my good points, and then turned to kiss 
her mother. Oh ! how I longed to be a mother ! 

“As soon as we were out of sight of land, 
and everything was getting quiet on board, I 
took out my cherished rug, my comfortable 
cap, and secured a chair near my divinity on 
deck. It was an exquisite evening, a silver 
moon and all that, and for fully five minutes my 
happiness was complete; then Mr. King ap- 
peared and, thanking me for my forethought in 
having provided for his comfort, took posses- 
sion of my rug, and I had to creep back to the 
cabin, a sadder and a colder man, for the wind 
was icy. 

“The next morning I was dead to the world, 
58 


Bob’s Trip Abroad 


and I remained in my berth nearly all the way 
over; but when I did creep out Grace was in- 
terested and gave me a sympathetic glance, 
which comforts me even now. She never spoke 
one word to me, except to thank me for re- 
moving chairs and things that I had purposely 
placed in her path; but she did drop her hand- 
kerchief, which she will never get back. The 
morning we reached Liverpool she distinctly 
told me good-by with her eyes as she stepped 
on the gangway. 

“I lost her then and thought I had left her 
behind me forever, with the shrieking cabbies 
and the crowded teams, when what was my 
joy in London, not many hours later, upon en- 
tering the Compton, to see her sitting quietly 
in the reception room unbuttoning her gloves 
and looking very sleepy and tired. We both 
smiled involuntarily, and at that moment her 
father came in, and she followed him to the 
lift. It was enough to know that the same roof 
sheltered us, and my state of bliss can be imag- 
ined. 


59 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

“The next day I opened my eyes to the real- 
ization of London and Grace. We had a meet- 
ing of the stockholders at ten, and after that 
some cipher messages which kept me until 
luncheon. When Mr. King ceased dictating he 
said he was going out of town to Lord Gres- 
ham’s and would dine there. 'We will take the 
early train for Liverpool in the morning so as 
to catch the boat back home,’ he added, as he 
turned to the door. 

“Words could never describe my despair. 
To leave now, when I had not seen one single 
thing, and to leave those brown eyes and the 
happy smile on the opposite side of three thou- 
sand miles of water. In a sort of frenzy I fin- 
ished my work, seized my hat and rushed out 
into the street, knocking over people, taking 
the wrong cars and flying from one place to 
another in my mad desire to see something. 
The clerk at the hotel told me where to catch a 
train for Sydenham, to see the Crystal Palace, 
but I had only time to look at it from the out- 
side. A little later I found myself on the top 
60 


Bob’s Trip Abroad 


of a ’bus shrieking in a woman’s ear, ‘What is 
that?’ ‘Westminster Abbey,’ she answered, 
stolidiy. Again I pointed and yelled, ‘What is 
that building?’ ‘Westminster Abbey,’ she re- 
plied, as before, and I found she had adopted 
this answer for all inquiries to save herself 
trouble. 

“ ‘What church is that, little boy?’ I asked a 
youngster on a tram. ‘Saint Paul’s,’ he an- 
swered, and the night fell upon me, with the 
rush of vehicles, the beggars, the thousands of 
glittering lights, the rain in soaking mistiness 
and the sickening thought that this was the end 
of my trip abroad. 

“I went to one or two theatres and jingled 
the pitiful coins in my pocket, trying to make 
up my mind to stay for three months and let 
Mr. King come home without a secretary, but 
the thought of no work and the meanness of the 
thing to leave him in the lurch like that, kept 
my head clear, and early next morning we left 
the hotel together. 

“The station was crowded, of course, and I 

61 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


noticed a man in our compartment but did not 
observe him particularly, for we were late and 
just in time to be hustled in by the guard, when 
off we started, and there stood Grace on the 
platform waving her hand at me. I had not 
had time to put down my umbrella in the rush, 
so I shook it at her as hard as my heart was 
trembling. In an instant she was out of sight, 
and I found I had run the handle into the man 
beside me, who was swearing deeply. I turned 
to apologize and saw it was her father. He 
came back on the boat with us and left her at 
school. 

“Yes, boys, I’ve been abroad.” 

We shook hands with him silently and left 
him still looking at the magazine. 


62 


The Embodiment of a Thought 


It was raining, snowing and sleeting alter- 
nately. Our horses stumbled and slipped 
through mud up to the hubs, and the driver 
was evidently intoxicated. Finally he ran into 
a bank and one of the wheels collapsed, leaving 
me perched on the high but not dry side of the 
debilitated vehicle. The horses stopped, glad 
of a reprieve from pulling through the mud; 
the driver decided to unharness them in some 
dim future and lead them to town, so I had to 
get out and make my way alone. 

It was very dark, and, in trying to find the 
driest side of the road, I stumbled against a 
shambling gate. Into this I turned, hoping to 
find a shelter nearer than the town, which was 
several miles further. My effort was soon re- 
warded by seeing a twinkling light not very far 
from me. Following this hope, I stumbled on 
63 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


through the dripping darkness until I walked 
against another gate, and then, threading my 
way through a maze of forest oaks, I at last 
reached the house and knocked. 

The sound of children’s voices and the rat- 
tle of an old piano were as sweetest music to 
my frost-nipped ears, and something, I cannot 
describe what, told me I had come there to 
stay. 

In another moment the door was opened and 
the sweetest of voices asked me in. I stepped 
from the cold, unfriendly darkness into the 
warmth and glow of the family fireside, and I 
can close my eyes now and see the picture of 
the old, square hall, furnished like a sitting- 
room with high-backed mahogany chairs, a 
square piano, a huge rosewood desk, reaching 
nearly to the top of the whitewashed walls, and 
several curious cabinets of quaint shape. French 
prints in peeling gilt frames and some old oils 
in dark moldings were hung high around the 
room, and an old Dutch clock, with red and 
blue tulips on its gaudy face, creaked and 
64 


The Embodiment of a Thought 


clanged in the corner. A pair of heavy brass 
candlesticks and an antique vase ornamented 
the high mantel, and around the huge open fire- 
place, piled with glowing logs, sat the family. 

A swarm of children ceased to speak when I 
entered, and stared at me. A beautiful woman 
of fifty was reading aloud to a man who, with 
paralyzed limbs, sat in his invalid chair and 
scowled upon the world. 

The children effaced themselves, my hostess 
laid down her book and greeted me kindly, 
while the father looked at me searchingly from 
under his heavy brows. The owner of the sweet 
voice, after closing the door, came forward and 
stirred the fire, then seated herself opposite me 
upon an ottoman with a faded tapestry cover. 
She was tall and slight, very plainly dressed 
and her hands, though slender and graceful, 
bore the marks of housework and needle pricks ; 
but when the light fell upon her face with its 
exquisite oval shape and lustrous eyes, I looked 
into the fire lest my interest in her beauty might 
embarrass her. 


65 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


I stated my forlorn plight to the mother and 
asked if she would shelter me for the night. 
She replied courteously that she was afraid she 
could not make me comfortable, all of her best 
rooms being occupied. 

Here the vision on the ottoman said : “Mam- 
ma, we have Miss Shelton’s room. Perhaps he 
might not mind a haunted room.” She ques- 
tioned me with her eyes. 

“If it is only a question of a ghost,” I re- 
plied, “I beg you will allow me to remain. I 
have come to the county upon a little business 
for Killiams & Know, in Richmond; in fact, 
to see a client of theirs — Dr. Mainright — and 
if you will let me stay until morning I will be 
very grateful.” 

If a thunderbolt had fallen in their midst my 
words could not have produced a greater ef- 
fect. 

“I am Dr. Mainright,” answered the gruff 
voice from the invalid chair. 

Mother and daughter looked at each other 
with blanched faces and clasped hands, while I 
66 


The Embodiment of a Thought 

sat there longing for an earthquake to swallow 
me. Death in any form from lightning to yel- 
low fever would be a relief. I had dreaded this 
errand enough before, with these terrible pa- 
pers in my pocket to be served upon some un- 
happy unknowns who were to be put out of 
their home ; but now to sit by their hearthstone 
looking first at the wreck in the chair, then at 
the tired face of the mother and the lovely crea- 
ture on the faded ottoman, and to think of my 
driving them out into the pitiless storm of a 
wintry life ! 

“I regret very much being the bearer of any- 
thing disagreeable,” I stammered. 

“We will not discuss business matters to- 
night, sir,” he said, with a peremptory wave of 
his tremulous hand. “Mary, tell Sam to make 
a fire in Mr. Burton’s room.” This was ad- 
dressed to the vision, who went out for a few 
minutes and returned with a lighted candle in 
one hand and a little streak of soot on the other, 
from which I judged that Sam was sound 
asleep. 


67 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


“In what manner am I to be visited by the 
ghost?” I inquired, taking up my candle. 

“Oh, she does not harm you,” laughed the 
girl. “She will only walk in and look at you. 
You see, she walks about the house because she 
committed suicide here. She was a klepto- 
maniac and used to get into a great deal of trou- 
ble. She finally took a large sum of money 
from my grandfather’s desk, or it was supposed 
that she did, and when he accused her of it she 
took laudanum and died in the room you are to 
occupy.” 

My hostess opened a door leading into a nar- 
row passage and pointed to some rather steep 
steps. 

“When you reach the landing, turn to the 
left and you will find your door ajar,” she said, 
and bade me good night. 

I found the way without difficulty, for the 
house was not large. The room was com- 
fortably but gloomily furnished with heavy 
mahogany, a faded velvet carpet with large red 
roses on it the size of cabbages, and some old 
6S 


The Embodiment of a Thought 

prints of Washington and Jefferson, in oval 
frames. A bust of Henry Clay, with his long 
upper lip, looked at me severely from his posi- 
tion over the door. In one corner there was a 
very narrow enclosed staircase running down 
into the room and the door of this was covered 
by a crimson curtain. Below this door there 
were two steps projecting, upon one of which 
stood a tin water pail. 

The fire, though newly made, was burning 
brightly, and as I drew my chair nearer its 
hospitable blaze, I congratulated myself upon 
having found such a comfortable spot, even un- 
der such depressing circumstances. What 
would become of these people when they no 
longer had the shelter of this roof? Killiams 
& Know were inexorable. The notes were long 1 
overdue and I but the unwilling tool to do their 
bidding. 

The house was perfectly quiet save for the 
occasional scurry of a rat across the garret 
floor and the rattling of the cracked panes in 
the shaking windows. At intervals the swish 

69 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


of a sleet-laden bough would brush against the 
half-open blind and cause me to stir the fire. 
Something, I know not what, made me look 
over my shoulder at the garret door, and as I 
looked the crimson curtain slowly moved. I 
examined it nervously and found that the wind 
through a large crack was lifting the drapery. 
The door was locked with the key on my side, 
but there was something about it that worried 
me. Browning’s lines refused to leave my 
mind : 


“And the socket doats and dares, 

And the house-beams groan, 

And a foot unknown 
Is surmised on the garret stairs 
And the locks slip unawares” 

Every one of these sounds occurred in that 
room before I went to sleep, and always when 
I started at any unusual noise I looked askance 
at the garret door. 

I must have slept several hours, for the fire 
70 


The Embodiment of a Thought 

had burned down to a few embers, when I was 
aroused by the consciousness of another’s pres- 
ence. There was enough light to distinguish 
each object about me in a sort of grayness, 
and I peered around me a moment, then closed 
my eyes. When I opened them again a woman 
stood by my bed, very close to me and looking 
straight down into my soul. I put out my hand 
to touch her, feeling assured she was a human 
being, but an indefinable sensation of repulsion 
made me withdraw it. I could not see the color 
of her eyes or the material of her garment, but 
she was tall and straight and came yet nearer 
to me, while I lay horrified yet fascinated by 
her movements. She turned slowly and point- 
ed to the garret steps ; and then, thoroughly un- 
nerved, I covered up my head and broke into a 
cold perspiration. While I lay there trembling 
I decided that I had had a nightmare, but there 
was no more sleep for me that night. All my 
studies in the psychic society to which I be- 
longed only served to make me draw the cov- 
erlet more closely over my head while I lis- 
7i 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

tened to the muffled rattling of something un- 
derneath the little steps, a little clinking — a 
scurry — a swish, and then a dreadful stillness. 

At breakfast the next morning there was a 
group of serious faces; but a smile was ex- 
changed between the older members of the fam- 
ily when I related my nightmare of the ghost. 

“Why, that is the way Miss Shelton always 
comes,” explained Mary, “and everyone who 
sleeps in the room has the same nightmare. 

After the meal was over I had an interview 
with Dr. Mainright and we discussed his 
hopeless affairs. The house must go. My sym- 
pathy was so thoroughly aroused and my desire 
to solve Miss Shelton’s presence so great, as 
well as the interest I felt in a certain dimple in 
Mary’s left cheek, that I begged him to let me 
remain a few days in his home until we could 
make some plan for his comfort. I then wired 
to Killiams & Know that I had sprained an 
ankle, and went to walk with the dimple. 

Having given some study to thought forces, 
it occurred to me to treat Miss Shelton scien- 
72 


The Embodiment of a Thought 

tifically and in a perfectly fair manner. She 
had evidently died with some thought on her 
mind unexpressed, which she wished to convey 
to someone. After death the thought, of 
course, remained in the room, and could be 
translated to the persons concerned by some- 
body gifted with psychic understanding. No 
scientific discovery, however, would have given 
me the courage to receive a second visit from 
her, and nothing but the hope of recovering 
something to aid the wrecked fortunes of this 
distressed family would have induced me to oc- 
cupy the room again. 

As the time to retire approached my spirits 
fell. I blew out and relighted my lamp several 
times, finally leaving it well turned up, and 
went to bed repeating to myself an idea culled 
from a recent work. “A ghost is the embodi- 
ment of a thought, visible only to persons of a 
certain temperament. ,, This I kept up my 
courage with until I dreamt of the whittled 
bench at school and “A noun is the name of any 
person, place or thing.” 

73 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

How long I slept I do not know, but my 
first consciousness told me Miss Shelton was 
there. The curtain across the door moved 
slightly, the light flickered and went out, seem- 
ingly by the passing of ghostly garments, and 
I shut my eyes, dreading to see what I knew 
was there, when, horror of horrors, something 
— God knows what — gently pulled the coverlet 
down from my shoulders and blew an icy 
breath against my cheek. By a violent effort I 
forced myself to look up, and there the same 
gray figure of the woman stood staring down 
into my face. The room was not dark, for the 
moonlight fell through the blinds in silvery 
bars across the floor, revealing her straight fig- 
ure in its clinging gown, whiile the massive old 
mahogany made a black background for her 
misty presence. All my psychological lessons, 
learned in lighted libraries with mocking com- 
panions, fled from my palsied brain, and there 
I lay, a trembling coward, before this thing 
standing at my side — this awful embodiment. 

She turned as she had done the previous 
74 


The Embodiment of a Thought 

night and pointed to the garret steps, then 
slowly faded from my sight. 

It was some time after her departure before 
I recovered my nerves sufficiently to get up and 
make a light. Taking my pocket knife and the 
poker, I began the tedious task of loosening the 
woodwork at the foot of the little door. The 
top of the lower step was not as secure as it 
should have been, and when I removed it, there 
before me lay a musty, dusty heap of gold, sil- 
ver and odd pieces of old-fashioned jewelry. 
A heavy watch chain was caught on a project- 
ing nail against a rough board, and this the rats 
had brushed against in their random skir- 
mishes. Greedily I counted the little pile of 
money and found more than enough to satisfy 
the mortgage. It all ended very happily, and 
Mary sits opposite my fireside now, with our 
children playing about her ; but as I write, the 
old horror comes over me and I too clearly re- 
call that dreadful presence. I can feel the cold 
breath on my cheek and hear the swish of the 
ghostly garments. 


75 


Mrs. Brown 


The partition was so thin and the voices, 
though modulated, were so distinct, it would 
have been impossible not to have heard them 
talking; and being an old woman and a lonely 
one, I own that I put my chair a little closer 
to the thin planks which divided their room 
from mine, for I was loved once in my youth, 
and the mellow bass notes from a masculine 
throat brought back a part of myself long 
buried. 

They were living in our Western boarding 
house, not an elegant or refined establishment 
by any means, nor one calculated to attract peo- 
ple of their evident station; but he seemed 
oblivious of everything save her presence, and 
she was so entirely in the clouds that I really 
believe she did not know the name of any one 
at the table for a month after she came; still, 
there was about her such a halo of fascination 
7 6 


Mrs. Brown 


(if one might use such an expression) that we 
watched for her to come in, and when she left 
the room the light went with her. 

They never sat in the common sitting-room 
and looked at the album or examined the hang- 
ing photographs of the landlady’s dead chil- 
dren, whose features and virtues were enlarged 
upon abnormally. They never perched upon 
the edge of the sunken cane rocking chairs and 
played cards on the palsied table with the other 
boarders, but they did not ignore us. On the 
contrary they beamed upon us, a motley set of 
bread-winners, fortune-hunters and land-boom- 
ers, but they were too absorbed to bestow their 
time upon us. 

They never had any mail and took no inter- 
est in the startling growth of the town, al- 
though they had come to live. He had a clerk- 
ship in the Drop Game mine, and she took long 
walks alone and sketched when he was at work, 
always going to meet him late in the afternoon, 
when they would saunter home together with 
the sunset glow in their faces. 

77 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


How could I help listening to the sounds 
from the other side of the wall, for there was 
never a cross word, and happiness is sometimes 
catching ! 

Their bright conversation was cheerful, and 
his bantering wit, with her ever-ready retort, 
became a source of pleasure to me. They read 
aloud a great deal, and sometimes he would 
leave Ruskin and Carlyle and launch suddenly 
into a medical journal, and several times I 
heard her distinctly call him “Doctor.” After- 
ward there would be a pause, a dead silence, as 
if their eyes had finished the sentence. 

She was not a beautiful woman, but there 
was something about her which made her more 
than that — a superiority of mind with a gen- 
tleness of manner and a tenderness of touch 
when she shook hands that made one conscious 
of her sympathy. 

He was handsome, decidedly, having a fine 
figure of generous proportions, a pair of laugh- 
ing blue eyes and a crop of flaxen ringlets, a 


78 


Mrs. Brown 


man and boy at once, perhaps his parentage a 
faun and a fay, but why those scientific hands, 
so firm and slender, so squared at the finger- 
tips? 

One day a new boarder sat next her at table. 
When she entered and saw him, she paused 
momentarily and hesitated before taking her 
seat. She exchanged a glance with her hus- 
band, and when they were introduced as Mr. 
and Mrs. Brown the stranger held his baked 
beans on his balanced knife for fully a minute 
and was too surprised or too rude to bow. 

After a few moments he seemed to regain 
his normal condition and attacked his food. 

On the way upstairs I heard Mrs. Brown 
say, “It was the grocer,” in an awed tone. 

“Never mind, dear, those things are apt to 
happen,” he responded, lightly. 

In just ten days from that time a letter was 
handed her at table. This was so remarkable 
that all of us noticed it, for if they ever had any 
mail it was not sent to the house. She glanced 
at the address and grew very pale. Mr. Brown 
79 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

took it from her and put it in his pocket, say- 
ing she would drop it from her lap. 

After that they never looked the same. Her 
color left her and the light died out of her eyes. 
He was nervous and restless, and instead of the 
gay laughter on the other side of the partition, 
there would be long silences and sometimes a 
sigh. One night I heard her sob and felt rather 
than heard him try to comfort her. 

The next day she was ill and sent for me to 
come to her room. 

She really looked dreadfully, with great cir- 
cles under her eyes from excessive weeping, 
and when she put out her dear little hand I 
found it like a burning coal. 

“I feel like talking to a woman,” she said, 
“and I thought you would not mind coming in. 
You have such a motherly look.” 

She told me Mr. Brown had been called out 
of town on business, and she was not sure when 
he would return; in fact, if he were successful 
he would not come back at all — she would join 
him. 


80 


Mrs. Brown 


She remained in bed several days, and as I 
sat with her all the time whenever she was 
awake, we grew quite friendly. 

Our conversations were rarely of a personal 
nature, and I never heard her allude to any of 
her family. 

One day when she had been particularly de- 
pressed, she looked in my fact very wistfully 
and said : “I’m going to tell you a story about 
some people I once knew, and you must ex- 
press your opinion. The girl went to live in 
the family of a doctor whose wife had the 
opium habit; to be a sort of companion to her 
and to stand between a curious public and this 
misfortune. It ended by her falling in love 
with the man. She tried in every way to crush 
it out of her heart, but was too weak to do it, 
and finally consented to go away with him, so 
they disappeared. 

“They were very happy at first, in spite of the 
horror of it all. He wanted to get a divorce 
and marry her, but she, having been a Chris- 
tian, felt that would only add to and not con- 
81 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

done the crime, for man’s laws cannot alter 
God’s. 

“At this juncture their address was discov- 
ered, for they were living far from home under 
an assumed name, and the wife wrote her beg- 
ging her to send him home, and saying she 
would receive him with open arms.” 

“What did she do?” I asked breathlessly. 

“She sent him,” was the faint response, and 
then she turned her face to the wall and wept 
bitterly. 

“Never mind, my dear,” I said. “She tried 
to do right, and she’ll be happier in the end.” 

The next day, in spite of her weakness, she 
insisted upon leaving us to go to Mr. Brown in 
Chicago, but the station agent told me after- 
ward that she took a train in the opposite di- 
rection. 

A week or two later my eye fell upon the fol- 
lowing paragraph in a Boston paper : 

“We are glad to state that the recent stories 
concerning Dr. Jasper Le Roy have been en- 
tirely erroneous. He has returned home and 
82 


Mrs. Brown 


explained satisfactorily his absence, which was 
prolonged by an illness in Chicago. Mrs. Le 
Roy was sent for, and they have returned to 
this city.” 


83 


Miss Scruggs 


When a harness maker appeared at the 
Court House, with his wardrobe and his tools 
in a bundle slung over his shoulders, we met 
with open arms and every kind of a broken 
bridle known to man or beast. 

All the old leather was dug out of the debris 
in the harness room, every old saddle in the 
neighborhood was brought forth, and such was 
the gratitude of the public for having this 
blessing bestowed upon the town, that the City 
Council held a meeting and agreed unanimously 
to give him a small house, rent free, pictur- 
esquely situated on the railroad track, and sev- 
eral other inducements were held out to tempt 
him to remain. 

He was a very courteous elderly man, whose 
gentle manners impressed us all favorably, and 

34 


Miss Scruggs 

there was a suggestion in his benevolent smile 
and good grammar of a happier and broader 
sphere of action than that of mending harness 
in a five-by-ten shop. 

It was not very long before he decided to find 
a housekeeper, and one day he took a little trip 
to a neighboring town, returning in the even- 
ing with a slim lassie, who brought with her a 
pair of bold black eyes and a young baby in her 
arms. 

After her arrival the house began to assume 
the aspect of a home. Some gay hollyhocks 
flaunted their crimson frills at the passing 
trains ; the pump handle was mended and paint- 
ed blue; a ragged curtain made of a discarded 
muslin suggestive of something feminine and 
dainty hung over the one front window; a 
wreath of smoke curled skyward from the rock 
chimney; the baby laughed and wailed alter- 
nately in its little goods box cradle, and alto- 
gether there was a nestful if not a restful sen- 
sation upon entering his abode that Mr. Jules- 
by seemed to appreciate. 

85 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


His happiness shed its rays up and down the 
track as he walked to his work, with a smile on 
his worn, wrinkled features, and really he was 
a picture of contentment. 

The girl was very quiet when she first came, 
rarely stirring out of the house, but as Mr. 
Julesby’s trade increased, and the baby likewise, 
so it could toddle by her side, she invested in 
a large red hat which she wore tilted to one 
side, a pair of high-heeled shoes (also worn on 
the side) and an overskirt much bef rilled and 
coquettishly draped. 

Soon it was reported that she was Mrs. Jules- 
by and had been for some time. He spoke of 
her as his wife, and the butcher’s wife called 
upon her; so it ran thus for several years. 

The hollyhocks spread, the little house be- 
gan to assume a jaunty, trim air, with a tiny 
porch built in front; the cradle was split for 
dry wood one cold night, the child played on 
the track and rolled down the embankment in 
front of every train, and had to be shrieked at 
and hauled off in the nick of time (it is aston- 
86 


Miss Scruggs 


ishing how many nicks time has for a small boy 
to escape through), and everything at the 
Julesby’s seemed to be in a state of domestic 
contentment, when one day a sewing machine 
man came to sell his wares. 

He had a very long mustache, a rolling eye, a 
dissipated nose, wore a diamond stud in his 
shirt front and had a good trotting horse 
hitched to his light wagon. 

He paid quite a long call, and when he start- 
ed away Mrs. Julesby went out to the gate with 
him and patted the horse, giving it the apple 
little Joe was crying for, and then she leaned 
over the fence and watched the visitor disap- 
pear down the dusty road. 

The next day the horse came by for another 
apple, bringing his master with him, and this 
occurred several times. 

One afternoon Mr. Julesby came home unex- 
pectedly from the shop and found the man 
lunching off the cold chicken he had put away 
in the cupboard for his supper. 

This was a blow, but he bore it philosophic- 
87 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

ally, for Mrs. Julesby promised him a pie for 
next day. 

When the morrow came the pie came not 
with it, and sorrow was added to the old man’s 
lot when he slowly walked up the track, climbed 
up the steep steps in the bank and opened the 
door of his little home. 

The fire had gone out, Joe was not there, 
Mrs. Julesby’s presence was not felt, and the 
supper table, usually laid at this hour, was 
pushed up against the wall, with the blue can- 
ton flannel cover on it and the album in place. 

Everything was still except the cow at the 
back door, who was trying to come in and was 
lowing aggrievedly to be milked. 

He looked around vacantly for a moment; 
then his eye fell upon a piece of brown paper, 
folded and stuck in the side of the bed with a 
large brass pin. 

He opened it hastily and read : 

“I have gone. You need not look for me. 
His horse is too fast for you. 

“Miss Scruggs.” 


88 


Miss Scruggs 

Mr. Julesby pulled his beard savagely and 
sat down; then he squinted up one eye and 
shook his fist at the tin dipper hanging on the 
wall. 

After a few moments’ thought he left the 
house and followed the main road, where there 
was a fresh wagon track from his gate. On it 
went for a mile and then it turned into a skirt 
of woods which led to a deserted saw mill. 

Presently he found the vehicle standing in 
the road, and heard voices on the other side of 
a large pile of fallen wood. 

Slowly he crept through the rustling twigs 
and, having found a spot behind an uprooted 
tree where he could see without being seen, lis- 
tened and looked. 

Miss Scruggs was seated on a log by the ma- 
chine man, while little Joe was tugging at her 
skirts and begging her to go home. They were 
too absorbed to pay much attention to his im- 
portunities, though he seemed to be the subject 
of their remarks. 

“Why, I hadn’t the slightest idea ol taking 
89 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

the kid,” the man was saying, looking over poor 
little Joe’s points with great disfavor. “What 
do you suppose I could do with him ?” 

“Understood you to say that anyhow,” she 
answered, doggedly, as if she had settled the 
matter and intended having her family partici- 
pate in the elopement. 

“Well, to tell you the truth,” he said, “I was 
only joking about your coming. I have no- 
where to take you to, and I thought you knew 
I was only in fun.” 

He hesitated a little and looked sheepishly at 
the large bundle she had carefully tied and 
brought with her, but which had become a lit- 
tle awry in the journey in the wagon, and now 
through the torn places in the newspaper cov- 
ering, Joe’s small, patched garments were pro- 
truding. 

“What made you come after me then and 
bring me this far?” She asked the question 
with a very hard look on her young face. “You 
ought not to behave thataway, and I am just 
going, anyhow.” 


90 


Miss Scruggs 


“Well, I guess not,” was the reply, and ris- 
ing as he spoke he went over to where his 
horse was standing. “Tra-la,” he called, and 
with a spring he had jumped in the wagon and 
was gone before she could remonstrate fur- 
ther. 

Yes, he was gone, and she was alone in the 
woods at dusk, homeless, friendless, penniless, 
with the child crying for supper and the owls 
hooting at her through the misty glades. 

A rustling noise in the forest behind her 
satrtled her in her dumb misery. 

The boy crept closer to her. She shook him 
roughly. “It was all on account of you,” she 
said, impatiently. “I wish I’d have left you 
with Mr. Julesby.” 

At that moment the old man, who had been 
making his way slowly toward her, now held 
out his hands to the child, who gave a sob of 
relief and threw his arms around his neck. 

When he had soothed the boy, he turned to 
the woman and made her a low bow. 

“Miss Scruggs,” he said, “I left the cow 
9 \ 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

waiting to be milked, and when I engage a 
housekeeper I expect her to stay at home and 
prepare my food. ,, 

She looked at his old, wrinkled face and at 
the gentle way he held Joe in his tired arms, 
and then, picking up her newspaper bundle, she 
followed them. 

Her romance was over, and in a vague way 
she felt that he understood and that he knew 
it all. 

Of one thing she felt quite certain, and that 
was the butcher’s wife would never call her 
Mrs. Julesby again. She would now be Miss 
Scruggs for life. 


92 


Aunt Sallie’s Psychology 


“I have come to the conclusion,” said 
Madge, throwing aside her wraps and draw- 
ing her chair nearer to the blazing logs, “that 
it really does not matter whether we have any 
bodies at all. Our minds are all that are neces- 
sary for our well-being in the world, and I am 
going to practice all the theories this lecturer 
advances. You will see a remarkable change 
in this household, Aunt Sallie; I am going to 
will people to do everything I wish.” 

“Yes,” chimed in Ada, “you can really make 
everyone obey you by simply sending out a 
thought force and compelling them to follow 
your thought. Professor Wise explained it 
all very clearly. It is like Mark Twain’s man.” 

Aunt Sallie put aside her farming paper, 
and pushed back her spectacles. 

“I don’t believe any of it. It is all nonsense. 

93 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

Didn’t Pete tell me last week how to make the 
mink stop killing my chickens ? He told me to 
take four black bottles and hang one in each 
corner of the hen house by a pink string, and 
the mink would never come back. I did just 
as he directed, and the next morning two more 
chickens were gone. No, I pay no attention to 
anything like that now. It’s all foolishness.” 

“But this has nothing to do with a mink, 
dearest Auntie,” remonstrated Madge, with up- 
lifted brows and a little bored expression at 
the corners of her mouth. “This is the influ- 
ence of mind upon mind. For instance, if I 
want a certain person to do a certain thing, I 
write him a note and pin it over my heart, let 
it stay there, and he will answer it just as if 
he had received it through the mail.” 

“I’m going to will Hugh Powers to send me 
a five-pound box of bonbons; I’m dying for 
some candy,” said Ada. 

“That will be no test, for you know he is 
liable to do that at any moment.” 

“But I’ll not take any chances on it. We 
94 


Aunt Sallie’s Psychology- 

will write them now while our thought forces 
are strong,” she continued, seating herself at 
the old desk in the corner. “Here it is : ‘I will 
you, Hugh Powers, to send me a five-pound 
box of bonbons, December the twenty-fourth. 
Ada/ Now, Madge, write yours, and we will 
pin them in, sealed and directed.” 

“Mine is going to be more private than that,” 
answered Madge, two round spots of color 
flaring up high on her cheeks. “I’ve no idea 
of showing it.” She wrote hastily, then care- 
fully concealed it in the bosom of her gown. 
That night she tossed upon her pillow, ponder- 
ing over what would happen if it were respond- 
ed to, or, worse still, if he should ever find out 
she wrote such a thing. “I will you, Jack Har- 
court, to cease your attentions to Mildred Forse 
and to return to me on the twenty-fourth of 
December. Madge.” There it lay against her 
heart, like a leaden weight. She felt as if she 
had posted it, and she could see him reading it 
with a scornful smile; and then flinging it in 
the waste basket. On the other hand, how was 
95 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

it possible for him to find it out? If there were 
reason in this thing he would return to her 
without knowing what guided his footsteps, 
and it was so perfectly dreadful to see him 
driving Mildred by, flaunting her in her face, 
so to speak. Of course she had refused to 
marry him, but that was nothing. She could 
not marry all the men who asked her, and most 
of them came back after a little. But Jack 
was different from the others, and she did not 
know she loved him until this girl had come 
with her picture hats and stunning gowns, to 
dazzle him. He was not the right sort of man ; 
he must be both fickle and mean, and she hated 
him, yes, hated him, but she left the little note 
rising and falling upon her breast as she sobbed 
herself to sleep. 

The next week was spent in preparation for 
the Christmas party. “Madge has been work- 
ing too hard, Aunt,” said Ada; “she is too 
thin by far.” The old lady looked critically 
at some dark shadows beneath the blue eyes, 
which betokened tears. “Yes, child,” she said, 
96 


Aunt Sallie’s Psychology 

“you do look a little peaked. You are not 
sleeping enough; too many boys here every 
evening. When I was young, girls didn’t 
do that way, going out to all sorts of curious 
lectures and science things, studying about 
the astral fluid and useless nonsense, and then 
staying up half the night dancing and play- 
ing cards.” Then she thought, “Yes, poor 
child, she is sorry now she sent away Jack, 
and here he is tearing by here every day with 
that strange girl, without ever glancing at 
the house. I’ll have to invite her to the party, 
because she is staying with Melinda, but I 
hope she will not come.” She sighed as her 
thoughts traveled backward over forty years, 
and, skipping a peaceful period of married 
life, she could recall, with painful distinct- 
ness, a certain summer of her girlhood and 
the very gowns that hated boarder wore at 
her mother’s farmhouse. The odor of violets 
had made her ill for years afterward, for had 
not that woman worn them? And there was 
a certain way she had of pushing far out 
97 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


from under her silken skirt a very well-fit- 
ting boot that enraged her now whenever she 
thought of it, and although the grave had 
closed over the husband’s faithful form a long 
time ago, and the boarder had married a for- 
eigner, the thought still rankled. 

The night of the party was clear and 
beautiful, and all the county came. There 
were horses tied to every tree in the grove, 
and up and down the village streets the sleigh- 
bells were jingling with their merry loads. 
Miss Forse came attired in a gown whose 
beauty mystified the populace, and was es- 
corted by Jack Harcourt. In speaking to 
Madge he said as little as courtesy demanded, 
for this was the first time since his cold dis- 
missal that he had been near her. He did not 
glance at the pretty pink creation which she 
had spent weeks in planning, or even notice 
that she was pale. She really could not give 
him a waltz, she said, with great indifference; 
her card was so crowded ; yes, it was a beauti- 
ful night — glad he thought the decorations 
98 


Aunt Sallie’s Psychology 

were tasteful, they had done it themselves, 
with Basil Truman’s assistance. 

This name had a peculiarly unhappy effect 
upon Jack and caused him to turn his eyes 
upon the graceful figure in the bewildering 
gown skimming lightly past him. 

Aunt Sallie went upstairs during the even- 
ing, looking for someone, and there on the 
table in Ada’s room, lay a box of bonbons 
with a card. — “Well, in all my life!” she 
ejaculated, then she peeped in the mirror to 
see if her lace collar was properly adjusted 
and turned to the door. On the floor before 
her was a small envelope. Taking it up, she 
read the address, 

“Mr. John Harcourt, 

“In the World of Thought.” 

She twirled the rumpled little missive over 
and over in her hands while she pondered 
deeply. Then closing the door, she knelt be- 
hind it, forgetful of her best black silk. 
“Lord,” she prayed, “help me to adjust this 
99 


Lof C. 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 

matter, and if I get Madge into deeper waters, 
please pull her out.” 

When she returned to the ball-room Miss 
Forse and Jack whirled past; the music ceased 
suddenly, and they took their seats. She 
walked by them slowly, and in the crowd it 
was not noticed that an envelope seemed to 
flake from her capacious person and fall upon 
the floor at Jack’s feet. A few minutes later 
she saw him approach Madge, who was stand- 
ing near. “I’ve just received your note,” he 
said brusquely, “and I want to know what it 
means. Is it some prank to torture me?” 

“What do you mean?” gasped the girl, 
clutching involuntarily the laces on her bodice. 

“I mean this,” he replied, taking from his 
pocket the dingy little note. 

Poor Madge gave a violent start. “I must 
have dropped it — the pin came out. It was 
not intended for you, Mr. Harcourt,’ she said, 
choking with mortification. “It was a joke, 
you know, and I did it to test a theory after 
hearing the lecture.” 


100 


Aunt Sallie’s Psychology 

“Then, joke or no joke, I intend to take 
it in earnest,” he replied, in a most masterful 
tone. 

Just then there was a cry from several 
throats, and Aunt Sallie fell in a limp heap 
upon the floor, her lace collar all awry and her 
black silk twisted about her feet. It was 
never decided by the doctors whether it was 
a slight stroke of apoplexy or an ordinary 
fainting spell, but she had to be carried to 
her room and many restoratives used before 
she regained consciousness. By the next 
morning, however, she was at the breakfast 
table as usual. 

“There, Aunt,” said Ada, “my experiment 
has proved a success. Hugh sent the candy. 
How has yours turned out, Madge?” 

“Mine is all right, too, but I am not so sure 
it was a psychological demonstration. I can’t 
make it quite clear to you, but it is as I 
wished it to be.” Here she reddened a little 
and looked with unusual interest at her plate. 

Aunt Sallie noted the changed countenance 

m 


Miss Penelope’s Elopement 


and smiled to herself. “I don’t know but 
what you girls may be right after all,” said 
the wily old woman, “and I’m going to put 
some more bottles in the hen house.” 


THE END. 


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